


3:07 p.m.

by orphan_account



Series: girls! i have heard of them [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Lingerie, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru's parents aren't home. Hajime cordially spends the afternoon at Tooru's place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3:07 p.m.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, it's exam time? i think you mean ....... increase the Gay time ........ ,':-)
> 
> this is so pure i s2g we don't deserve th e m
> 
>  
> 
> context: they're both like, 18 in this work. 
> 
> enjoy <3

It started like this, in the end; Hajime woke up feeling restless, and the sheer jitters she’d felt in her stomach— she refused to tell herself they were butterflies— only increased and fluttered relentlessly at the sight of Oikawa Tooru that morning at school.

“Hey, Hajime,” she’d said, in a voice that was slightly deeper than normal, “Are you free today; after school, I mean? My parents aren’t home.”

Hajime had felt her throat constrict. She’d known what this meant; it meant lying in Tooru’s single-bed— it gave them an excuse to press closer to each other— with her hand on Tooru’s waist and another in her hair, her thigh in between her legs as Tooru gasped and kissed her so hard it _hurt_. It meant that Tooru would let her touch wherever, and let her leave marks all over; though they’d stop, each time, and that was fine, really.

Hajime was sort of afraid, after all.

Being with Tooru— dating, nonetheless— meant baring your soul to her, even though you knew that she understood every single precise detail about you. She was guttering; beautiful and entirely ethereal. Hajime sometimes believed that she did not deserve her. She was Hajime’s— she’d told her so, in the depth of the night, or in between breathless kisses— and Hajime was hers. She’d said so as well, in aching, slow exhales of _yes, Tooru— please, I love you— I love you, **I love you** —_

“Hajime? Are you alright? You’re flushing—”

Hajime swatted Tooru’s hand away. She leaned towards Hajime, and stared at her as though she’d thought Hajime was hiding something, which, in truth, she wasn’t; Oikawa Tooru absolutely knew that she was so in love with her it felt as though she was losing her mind.

“I’m fine,” Hajime replied, “And yeah, I’ll be there; of course I’ll be there. You needn’t ask. Wait for me after chemistry, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbled. She did that a lot. It made Hajime lean closer towards her. She was magnetic, like that.

Tooru turned, then— her skirt swished around her pale thighs, and Hajime would see the sliver of skin where her dark blue thigh-highs ended and the pale expanse of her skin began— and returned to her desk, though not without letting her palm rest against Hajime’s waist and biting her lip and grinning at her.

Hajime felt her touch burn there for the rest of the day; it remained in the marrow of her bones— along with the sight of Tooru’s utterly breathtaking smile— as Tooru closed the door to her room in the afternoon. Hajime stood behind her and let her bag drop to the floor as Tooru manoeuvred her way across her bedroom, tiptoeing her sock-clad feet to the window. Tugging at it, she opened it, and inhaled deeply as she leaned out of it.

Hajime’s fingers grew sweaty as Tooru rested her elbows on it; her skirt rose up, and exposed her behind. She’d shortened the skirt years ago, and after a recent growth spurt, it became Hajime’s weakness, listed right after Tooru’s smile and laugh.

The smooth expanse of Tooru’s skin fit all too well with the pale-pink of her panties, curving over her ass. Tooru was lanky all over— with elongated limbs and wiry muscles and a devilishly long neck and perfectly, sinfully slim fingers— and so it was the best surprise Hajime had ever experienced that, upon grasping her ass and feeling it up, she’d discovered that, although it was small, it wasn’t flat; it was soft and round.

Hajime could not stop herself from stepping closer to Tooru as Tooru straightened her spine and slowly drew down the blinds with a metallic whirring sound. The afternoon sun shone into the room, and it painted yellow stripes all over. Tooru turned, then, and she, too, was basked in sunlight; it contorted her face, and made it seem sharper and more defined.

Raising a hand, Hajime’s fingertips traced her jaw, and her other hand rested atop her thigh, inching it upwards to gasp in the feeling of Tooru’s bare skin underneath hers. Tooru let go of the strings holding the blinds, then, and opened her mouth and breathed out a perfect, near silent _oh_ as Hajime angled her face towards hers. Hajime stared into her eyes, for a moment; they were just too pretty. Glossed over and in the most perfect shade of warm brown, the sunlight refracted in them, and made her pupils seem a little lighter than they truly were.

Hajime merely rested her mouth millimetres over Tooru’s. She could feel her warm breath fan over her chin and jaw and cheeks, and it was tantalising, teasing her like this.

Outside, a car alarm went off, though it was hard to hear it over the sound of Hajime’s heart beat and Tooru’s stuttering pants as Hajime licked her lips. Tooru raised trembling fingers to trace down Hajime’s jaw— from her ear to her chin— in such a painfully gentle manner, as though Hajime were asleep. Tooru’s eyelashes fluttered shut, then and Hajime stared with hooded eyes at the veins covering her eyelids. Tooru’s mouth parted, shaping her pale pink lips into the prettiest _oh_ shape.

Hajime could pinpoint the moment all the strings within her broke, and she surged forward, then and kissed her. Tooru’s body flung a little backwards with the sheer force— she must have truly been desperate— before her hands cupped Hajime’s face, and later found their way in Hajime’s hair, long and soft and just a little curly from the humidity.

Tooru tasted like cherry chapstick as when she opened her mouth, Hajime could taste nothing but sweet sugar; she tasted of bubblegum that reminded Hajime of simpler days— of scraped knees and playgrounds— and of the peaches she’d eaten for lunch. Hajime found herself swallowing Tooru’s moans as she licked at the roof of her mouth. The fingers in Hajime’s hair pulled and smoothed through the dark locks before Hajime pulled her closer and anchored their bodies together.

Slotting a leg in between Tooru’s, Hajime scratched lightly up and down the sides of Tooru’s thighs as Tooru spread her legs a little wider. Hajime raised her thigh to press against Tooru’s hot crotch; through her bare legs, she could feel Tooru’s heat and wetness seep deeply into the marrow of her bones. Tooru gasped into Hajime’s mouth, and licked at Hajime’s teeth with her tongue before biting at her lower lip.

“Fuck,” mumbled Hajime against her mouth, “Tooru— baby, _shit_ — I don’t think I can hold back—”

“It’s fine,” breathed Tooru in a flurry, “It’s fine; touch me,” she hushed, pressing her body up against Hajime’s, “Touch me all over, Hajime.”

Hajime could feel her breasts press against hers. Tooru was warm, and she smelt of vanilla. Hajime’s hands did not still; all she could manage was to press kisses along Tooru’s cheeks and down her jaw until she mouthed at her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Yeah,” she rasped, “Yeah, okay; if that’s what you want.”

Tooru exhaled a sigh of aching relief. She untangled her hand from her grip on Hajime’s hair, and ran her fingers down Hajime’s neck, scratching lightly in the way she knew Hajime liked. Hajime groaned, softly, and bit and sucked into Tooru’s neck; hard enough to leave a mark. She drew her tongue over the faint bruise, and untucked Tooru’s shirt to press her palms against Tooru’s waist. Her skin was soft underneath her fingers, and Hajime glanced down at the sight; something about how Tooru trembled in her arms and the contrast in her skin tones made her heart flutter and throat constrict.

Tooru writhed against her thigh and moaned as Hajime’s fingers ghosted over her waist and ribcage, tracing each jutting bone until she reached the curve of her breast. She simply cupped it, for a moment, and exhaled a shuttering breath.

“Is that— is that lace?” she asked weakly.

“Yeah,” Tooru replied, “It is.”

Hajime licked her lips and pulled Tooru’s shirt up a little more, exposing her chest. Tooru was wearing a thin, dark-blue lace bra; the kind that barely covered anything at all. Hajime’s heart stopped the moment she understood that Tooru had worn this the entire day— all day, at school and all— just for this moment. She’d planned this, and she’d known Hajime would like this. She did this _for_ Hajime.

“Fuck,” hushed Hajime, “You’re gorgeous— you’re beautiful— you’re beautiful, and I love you.”

Tooru laughed breathily as Hajime kissed along her neck. Her fingers trailed over her skin— cupping her breasts, small and firm in her palms— and raised goose-bumps all over. Hajime rested the tips of her fingers against the lace, and traced the pattern with a feather light touch until Tooru whimpered. Her thighs trembled around Hajime’s leg, and she thrust her hips forward, desperate to gain any form of friction.

“Hajime,” gasped Tooru, “Hajime— bed,”

Hajime nodded, and with one last kiss behind Tooru’s jaw, let go of Tooru and complied.

Tooru fell against the mattress first. Her shirt rose up even more as she lay propped up against her pastel-pink pillows, jarred in roses and hydrangeas. Her hair— she’d been growing it out in time for summer— fanned over the pillow, and it complimented her long, brown curls all too well. Resting her elbow behind her, her collarbone was exposed, and Hajime could see the marks she’d left there earlier begin to blossom against Tooru’s pale skin. Her waist seemed to be contorted, too; it was sharper more defined than usual, in this position. The dark-blue skirt she was wearing bunched up a little at the hem of her socks, and Hajime could peek at her panties; there was a dark, wet patch in the centre of them.

Hajime was sure she wasn’t breathing, at this point, as Tooru ran her fingers through the ends of her hair and grinned at her lopsidedly, inviting Hajime to step closer and join her.

“Shit,” Hajime heaved, feet still rooted at the end of the bed, “Holy _shit_ , Tooru, I—”

Tooru licked her lips and flushed. She blinked, and bit at the inside of her mouth as she shyly averted her gaze. Hajime couldn’t help herself. Unceremoniously, tore her shirt off and let her own skirt drop to the floor. She pulled her bra off— it didn’t have a clasp— before letting her own panties— grey and simple and drenched, too— and stepping out of them.

Hajime stood completely naked in front of Tooru. Tooru could merely stare, and let her eyes wander over Hajime’s bare body; across her shoulders— tan and dotted with faint freckles— and along her strong arms— down to her flat stomach and sturdy thighs— muscular and warm, always so _warm_ — and her bruised knees. She’d fallen down, or tripped, or something, weeks ago, and yellow and blue and pink dusted across her skin, as though it were splatters of ink on wet paper.

“Touch yourself.” Hajime spoke in a low voice.

Tooru nodded weakly at the commanding tone as Hajime stepped closer and crawled over her. Hajime’s skin was warm above hers, despite the layers of Tooru’s clothing between them. Tooru could feel her heart quicken as Hajime’s breath stuttered over her neck and cheek.

As though she were in a trance, Tooru traced her fingers down the expanse of her body— brushing over her breasts and nipples— before reaching her thighs. Slowly, she drew them up against the side of her thighs— where her socks ended— before moving them across her crotch. Reaching her wet and flushed pussy, she stroked it over her panties tantalisingly slowly— they had all the time in the world— as Hajime leaned closer to her, kissing at her neck and behind her ear, whispering words of praise, nonsense phrases of _yeah, just like that, baby— you’re gorgeous— you’re so goddamn gorgeous, Tooru—_

With a heaving breath, Hajime raked a hand underneath her shirt, tracing her fingers along her ribs whilst kissing her throat relentlessly. Tooru pushed away her underwear and slipped her fingers to press against herself. She let her fingers slide along the wet expanse of her cunt as Hajime bit at her pulse.

“Do you touch yourself like this alone, too?” hushed Hajime over her skin.

Tooru exhaled a stuttering breath. As she drew slow, small fingers of the hood of her sex and spread the wetness found there with two fingers, her chest felt heavy; the sheer proximity of Hajime and how she could feel Hajime’s gaze on her— as though she were a scorpion under a microscope or a shark in a tank— caused her pulse to somehow increase to an even more rapid rhythm.

“Yeah,” Tooru replied weakly. Hajime’s fingers drew nonsense patterns of the expanse of Tooru’s chest, thumb scraping the mole she had underneath her left breast.

“What sort of things do you think about?” asked Hajime in a low voice.

“You,” confessed Tooru, “I think about you.”

Hajime cupped her breasts once more, rolling Tooru’s perked nipple between the pads of her fingers.

“What am I doing to you?” she whispered into Tooru’s ear, breath hot on the shell of it.

“All sorts of things,” rasped Tooru, chest heaving, now, “I think— I think about how your hands would feel on you— and your mouth—”

“Yeah? That’s hot,” breathed Hajime, “You make this much noise, too?”

“If I’m into it.”

Hajime’s breath hitched, and Tooru quaked as she pressed her palm against her soaking groin. Hajime’s palms tightened their hold on Tooru’s breast, and she massaged them, now, rolling her body upwards in sync with the rhythm of her hands. Tooru’s thighs trembled as Hajime’s teeth scratched against the jugular of her neck, and her fingers trailed further upwards, bunching up Tooru’s shirt until Hajime retreated and let Tooru pull it off. No words were spoken between them. It wasn’t necessary; they were good with each other, like that.

Hajime sat back on her knees and watched Tooru tear off her t-shirt and discard it beside the bed before settling back against the pillows. Her lace bra was exposed, now, and Hajime could merely stare and burn the sight of Tooru like this— touching herself lazily underneath her skirt in that gorgeous lingerie of hers— into her memory. She’d save it for nights spent alone and daydreams spurn amidst boring afternoon classes that seemed to drone on forever when all Hajime wanted to do and all she could think about was how soft Tooru’s thighs were or the moans she gasped when Hajime kissed her neck.

“Fuck,” breathed Hajime as Tooru spread her legs invitingly, “Shit, baby— you look so good right now.”

Hajime reached forward, then, and climbed over Tooru’s body once more. Tooru raised a hand to cup Hajime’s face as Hajime leaned towards her and kissed her on her open mouth. Tooru gasped into her mouth as Hajime aligned their hips and rolled them upwards. Tooru was pliant beneath her, and Hajime could not stop herself from biting Tooru’s lower lip and basking in the little moan Tooru exhaled. Tooru touched herself a little faster, after that, and moaned a little louder. Hajime found what little composure she had left quickly breaking.

Hajime’s hands did not still; she trailed them up and down Tooru’s legs, hitching them upwards to slot a leg in between hers, settling it inches behind Tooru’s hand. Tooru’s lips chased after Hajime’s as Hajime pulled away, and— with one final, aching kiss with Tooru’s hands in her hair— retreated to pull Tooru’s socks off, slowly.

Resting on her knees before Tooru’s body once more, she lifted Tooru’s left leg, and let her fingers trail along the limb second too long before pulling the dark blue fabric off of Tooru. Hajime pressed open-mouthed kisses on each inch of exposed skin as Tooru’s hand slowly stilled, simply resting in between her thighs. She watched Hajime, and Hajime stared back at her through hooded eyes. Tooru’s breath hitched audibly as Hajime bit into the soft skin, sucking a mark just above her knee, before hooking her thumb into the sock and pulling it off completely.

Tooru lifted her other leg, then, licking her lips in anticipation as Hajime grinned and pressed a flurry of feather-light kisses over her thighs. It must have tickled, as Tooru giggled and grinned brilliantly up at Hajime. Hajime smiled back, too; Tooru’s laugh was utterly contagious.

Tooru tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously. With one final breathless giggle, she blinked up at Hajime, and let her lips curve into that perfect _oh_ shape once more as Hajime shuffled forward and pressed her palms up underneath Tooru’s skirt. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of Tooru’s panties, and in one motion, she pulled them down.

Unceremoniously, Tooru watched her drop them atop of Tooru’s shirt and socks before, with one careful glance and nod of consent, Hajime pressed her fingers atop of Tooru’s hip. Hajime’s touch was achingly warm— it felt as though she’d burned Tooru’s bones, though incredibly comfortably so— and Tooru’s fingers clutched desperately at Hajime’s shoulders. Slowly, she removed the fingers she’d lazily rested between her thighs as Hajime’s hand inched closer to where Tooru wanted it to be. 

The moment Hajime’s fingers came into contact with her sex— she was slick with heat and sheer arousal— Tooru moaned helplessly and tightened her hold on Hajime. Hajime merely pressed two fingers against the hood— simply resting them on her throbbing clit— and kissed down Tooru’s neck. Her skirt bunched up a little more, and Hajime shifted her hand to run it up and down her folds, spreading the wetness there as Tooru panted underneath her, baring her neck to Hajime’s open mouth.

“Hajime—” Tooru breathed, “Hajime, please— I need— I want,”

“I got you, babygirl,” rasped Hajime, breath warm over Tooru’s neck, “I’ll give you what you need.”

Hajime never had stated what it was Tooru needed, though it seemed to be to get Tooru naked underneath her as quick as possible. She sat back on her haunches once more and let Tooru lift her hips and unzip her skirt, allowing it to fall down her body and bunch up by her feet. Hajime grabbed it, and let it fall beside the bed before simply staring down at Tooru with hooded eyes.

“You can take the bra off too, if you’d like.” she told her in a voice far lower than Tooru had grown used to hearing.

She complied with a small nod, unclasping it from behind her, fishing her arms through the straps, and dropping it beside her. Hajime’s breath hitched audibly before she muttered a low _shit, Tooru_ and began to touch herself lazily, jutting a hand between her thighs and pressing her fingers against herself; she must have sought out some friction— any friction— as much as Tooru had, if not more.

For a moment, all Tooru managed to do was stare, for now was a good a time as any to bask in the sheer, absolute truth that Iwaizumi Hajime was beautiful. In the afternoon darkness, she smelt of sweat and her deodorant— Axe, out of all the options in the world— and the curry she’d eaten for lunch, and Tooru could see every part of her naked body; from her round, tanned breasts to her strong thighs— the muscles strained under the weight of her body— to the soft, rigidity of her hair. It was then that Tooru understood the importance of curves, of the thousand places where girls’ bodies ease from one place to another; from the arc of the foot to the ankle to her calf, from calf to hip to waist to breast to neck to ski-slope nose to forehead to shoulder to the concave arch of her back down to her wide hips— the ones that always slotted so perfectly with Tooru’s— and immensely soft ass.

Tooru had noticed girls’ curves before, though she never quite appreciated the significance of Hajime’s curves; Hajime was stronger than she was— in every way possible— and she had hard muscles all over, though they seamlessly curved over her skin. She was soft, too, to the touch; Tooru’s fingers itched to press into her skin, and her mouth ached to kiss her all over.

“You’re gorgeous.” Tooru said, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

Hajime’s mouth opened a little at that.

“You’re gorgeous,” repeated Tooru, “And I love you.”

Hajime licked her lips— a flush spread over her cheeks— and averted her eyes as she crawled closer to her and let Tooru wrap her arms around her. For a moment, Hajime simply held her. She was warm all over, and Tooru basked in how fast Hajime’s heart was beating. Her own mirrored Hajime’s rapid rhythm, and it sped up a little as she noticed that she’d made it this way; Hajime was breathing fast and her fingers trembled as she ran them down Tooru’s sides because of _her._   

 “Is this okay?” Hajime asked in a shaking voice.

“Yeah,” Tooru replied weakly, “Yeah, it is— c’mon, Hajime, touch me,”

Tooru had known Hajime had done this before— she’d told her so many months ago, that she’d fooled around a handful of times with anonymous girls at training camp— and the moment she felt Hajime’s fingers press against her, it was evident. Tooru’s head tilted backwards, and she gasped helplessly as she dug her nails into Hajime’s shoulders in an effort to gain some form of hold.

Hajime simply rested two of her fingers against her inner folds. It had felt entirely different than her own fingers ever had, and Tooru was louder, too. Her mouth formed that perfect little _oh_ shape, her head titled backwards and her eyes fluttered shut. She simply gasped and dug her nails harder into Hajime’s skin as Hajime began to curl her fingers and press them forward slowly. Tooru felt a gradual buzz of sweltering pleasure, burning low in her stomach and chest and tingling all over her body.

As Hajime pressed her two fingers inside of her, she gave a breathy little moan. It made Hajime’s blood boil, and made her want to scatter tiny words of praises all over Tooru’s skin as she hooked her fingers and thrust slowly. Tooru’s thighs shook around her, and Hajime kissed along them before pressing her lips and mouth against Tooru’s hood.

Tooru whined, and lifted a hand to thread her fingers through Hajime’s hair. Hajime complied and hummed lightly, and glanced up at her, now that there wasn’t a curtain of her long hair between them.

Tooru was watching her. Hajime couldn’t muster anything but a low moan as she shifted and pressed her own hand between her thighs. Tooru’s hips writhed as Hajime continued to thrust her fingers— as well as touch herself— and Hajime could feel herself begin to tremble.

In a rush, she removed her mouth and leaned over Tooru’s body once more; the desire to kiss her— hard, since she was hers— became too apparent to overlook. Tooru panted hotly and pushed Hajime’s hair behind her ear, fingers tracing along her jaw, and she stared up at Hajime for a long moment. Her gaze was unfocused with lust, and her breath fanned over Hajime’s mouth.

“I love you,” Tooru rasped before pulling Hajime down and kissing her on her open mouth, “I love you— I love you— _I love you_ —”

Her words were muffled as Hajime’s mouth pressed onto hers, and Hajime swallowed them as she pumped her fingers in and out of Tooru. Hajime began to chase the peak once more, and the motion of her fingers faltered as she saw white behind her eyes and simply kissed Tooru for all she was worth.

(Tooru was worth a lot; Tooru was everything.)

Tendrils of heat unfurled in Hajime’s stomach as Tooru clenched around her and shook, mouthing _yes— yes— Hajime— more— don’t stop, never stop; don’t fucking stop— I love you—_ as Hajime surged harder, kissing her still.

It wasn’t until later that Tooru allowed Hajime to breathe once more; large, heaving breaths fanned over Tooru’s skin as they broke away. Hajime steadied herself with a momentary pause before shifting and pulling her fingers out of Tooru. Tooru might have made a noise, though it was hard to tell; her body was languid and her mind was torn apart by _Hajime, Hajime— Hajime—_

She barely noticed the sensation, and she barely noticed Hajime fall down onto the mattress to lie beside her. Tooru’s eyes were closed, and she fluttered them open to stare at Hajime. Her vision was blurred, and the room was darker than she’d remembered. Hajime was drowned in shades of blue and purple, and she was beautiful, lying right here so close to Tooru it _hurt_ ; Hajime seemed to be blurred and murky as though she were drawn in watercolours on wet paper. Tooru smiled at her without a conscious thought.

“Hey,” Tooru said. Her voice was rough; perhaps she had screamed, after all.

“Hi,” Hajime replied. There was rustling, then, as Hajime shifted closer and pressed her thumb over Tooru’s jutting hip bone, holding her in her arms and kissing her all over, slowly. Tooru’s fingers brushed aside Hajime’s hair once more before running them through it and scratching at her scalp.

Hajime smiled at her.

“I love you so much,” she whispered. Tooru giggled, and grinned brilliantly.

“I love you, too.”

Her chest felt three sizes too small for her pounding heart. It was a little less overbearing as she felt Hajime’s press against her.

Her heart was beating just as fast.  

**Author's Note:**

> oikawa’s wearing this: http://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/willa-bra-navy?gclid=CM7ZmMjC_8wCFYpZhgodIw0K6g
> 
> and iwa’s wearing this: https://cdn.fashiola.co.uk/L191592582/Womens-briefs-Calvin-Klein-Briefs-in.jpg
> 
> credits @ britney for this Sin


End file.
